


Fine Print

by verucasalt123



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Corporal Punishment, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Wincest - Freeform, harsh punishment, toppyCastiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 02:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/pseuds/verucasalt123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Title:</b> Fine Print<br/><b>Author:</b> verucasalt123<br/><b>Beta:</b> saltandbyrne<br/><b>Genre:</b> Canon Divergence<br/><b>Pairing(s):</b> Sam/Dean/Castiel<br/><b>Rating:</b> NC-17<br/><b>Word Count:</b> ~6800<br/><b>Warnings:</b> Explicit descriptions of sex, cursing, use of alcohol and cigarettes, D/s dynamic, very harsh corporal punishment.<br/><b>Summary:</b> When it was good, it was very good indeed; but when it was bad, it was horrid.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Read here: <a href="XXX">A03</a> or <a href="http://verucasalt123.livejournal.com/239076.html">LJ</a></b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine Print

They’d gotten to where they were so easily, naturally, it was almost organic the way they fit together (as much as two brothers and an angel all fucking each other could be easy). No long days of unresolved sexual tension, no wasting time by one or two of them pining over one or two of them, just a night when Dean and Cas and Sam had all fallen apart and put each other back together in a sea shell-themed motel room on the barrier islands of North Carolina. After that, it was just how they worked, the three of them giving each other what they wanted (or needed) at the time. 

Sometimes Dean needed to be filled up in every way possible, an attempt to combat the emptiness that remained in his heart even now, so many years past losing his father, his life (if only temporarily), his friends. Those were the days or nights when he got on his hands and knees completely naked, filthy carpet burning the skin on the palms of his hands while Castiel fucked into him from behind and Sam knelt in front of him to shove his cock in Dean’s mouth. Dean was crazy for it, half out of his mind every time it happened, never able to decide between pushing himself back to get Cas deeper into his asshole or forward so he could feel his breathing blocked by his brother’s huge dick hitting the back of his throat. Hell, he was too far gone to think about jerking himself off – not that he could have without losing his balance. Two hands were required to keep him grounded and still for treatment this hard and filthy and rough and fucking perfect. There were even times when the pain from the hard fucking and the dizziness from his airway being obstructed left him without an erection at all. Not that he minded; these activities were not designed to make him feel good; quite the opposite, he’d rather just go straight to sleep after a night like that, leaving Cas and Sam to entertain themselves. But Dean always woke up with a spring in his step the next morning, no evidence of the soreness he must still feel in his ass, his throat, his hands. No, Dean chose to ignore all of that and just keep on going; he could jump into a hunt the next day.

There were times, too, when the only thing in the world Sam wanted was to feel himself break, feel his body shatter into a million useless pieces like his mind had done more than once (more than twice). Sam got the bed on those days, flat on his back, sometimes restrained and sometimes expected to keep himself still without any help. Castiel and Dean would each take a side, one starting at his feet and one starting at his head, touching and licking and kissing and nipping all along his entire body, except for his cock, which never got touched until Sam was sobbing and almost literally breathless, full on hyperventilating under the constant stimulation. They would each take one nipple and alternate licks and bites so Sam never knew what was coming next, which only made him even more out of control. Cas would calm him down just enough for him to get the air required to stutter out a few words of begging, or sometimes just one long whisper of “ _p-p-pleasepleaseplease_ before one of them took pity and made him come hard enough to pass out with a simple ghost of a touch against his dick. It took days for Sam to fully come down from those experiences, and with the life they led distractions could get you killed. That was part of why Sam treasured it so much, because it didn’t happen frequently. It was like a treat, something special like a birthday or a holiday.

Castiel – well, not surprisingly, he was different. There wasn’t any one particular scenario that he always came back to, mainly because he never felt it was necessary. He could have anything he wanted, any time he wanted it, from Sam or from Dean or from both of them. In the same vein, he could do anything he wanted, any time he wanted it, to either of the brothers, or to one while he forced the other to watch (or let them watch, depending on what he was doing). Castiel could even ensure that there was no sexual contact between any of them, at all, for a day or a week, one time even longer than that. It was easy, because he was in charge of this whole operation. He gave them both what they wanted most of the time, it pleased him to do so; he usually let them do what they wanted to him, as that pleased him just as well. 

It wasn’t like they had some kind of 24/7 dominance and submission thing going, far from it. When they hunted or did other ordinary things, all three of them were on absolutely equal ground. Dean had learned over time to listen to what Sam and Castiel had to say, to take their advice and knowledge into consideration even if he had something different in mind. Their work was still difficult, of course, but it went a whole lot more smoothly now that the three of them worked so well as a team. 

In the bedroom (or wherever they happened to be when the action got started), Castiel was in absolute control, there were no questions asked and neither Winchester brother tried to get around that fact. He was a seriously toppy bastard from the jump, and it felt right so they all just went with it. The vast majority of the time, Castiel was satisfied just with the knowledge that he was the one to determine anything that happened or didn’t happen between them when they were intimate. He even liked getting fucked, secure enough in himself that being penetrated sexually did not make him feel weak. He knew the stereotypes, the assumptions people made in these kinds of relationships about ‘top’ and ‘bottom’, he just didn’t think they were very accurate. But there were times, albeit rare, when he got himself into the mood of displaying his dominance over his lovers in a different way, and that was when it started far from any bedroom. He always told them ahead of time, but Sam and Dean had no idea if he did it so they’d be mentally prepared or because he wanted them to spend the whole day jumpy and nervous because they knew what was coming their way later – sometimes one of them, sometimes both, another thing they didn’t always know ahead of time unless they were specifically told. Castiel would just find a way to insert the fact that there was going to be a punishment later into a conversation, and that was all it took for both Dean and Sam to go quiet for most of the day. That left Cas to revel in the knowledge that he could have this kind of control anytime he desired, but wielding it too frequently wouldn’t get him what he wanted – these two powerful men twitchy and cowed for hours at a time. Castiel’s punishments were never a few slaps on the ass or marking them up with rough sex. They were never completely unbearable, breaking bones or inflicting serious psychological trauma; instead they were cruel, terrifying and endlessly creative without ever causing permanent damage. He always healed them afterward; even though they could still feel the pain somewhat, the physical proof of any injuries was gone by morning every time. Well, except for that one time he’d made Sam walk around with a bruise across his left cheekbone for a day and a half – the result of one fast and brutal backhanded slap that wasn’t even part of a punishment, just a reaction when Sam hadn’t moved fast enough for Castiel’s taste after he’d been told to get on his knees.

Such a pronouncement had been made at breakfast that morning, Dean and Sam sharing one side of a diner booth, Castiel perusing the menu across from them as he usually did even though he was never going to order anything other than a cup of coffee. They were between hunts and were driving back to Kansas, about a day and a half of traveling left ahead of them. Sam had already decided on pancakes with a fruit salad, Dean was still trying to decide between an omelet and a plate of biscuits and gravy when Castiel quietly set down his menu and said, “You’re going to be punished tonight. Both of you.”

Just then, their waitress appeared to take their orders. Castiel smiled as he asked for a cup of black coffee, Dean and Sam mumbled their orders quietly and handed the menus back to the young woman, their eyes glued to the table. 

The next few hours in the car were excruciatingly quiet, Dean not daring to even turn on any music. Stopping for a late lunch, Sam found his hand was shaking as he reached for his silverware and tried to convince himself it was because he hadn’t had a cigarette since before they left this morning. He’d run out and planned to pick some up after breakfast, but after what Castiel had said earlier, he was understandably hesitant to ask Dean to stop at the store for him. Dean never let him light up in the car, so they would have had to stand around and wait for Sam to finish his smoke, and there was no way Sam was taking the risk of making Castiel impatient or aggravated today. Dean and Castiel both were annoyed that he still hadn’t kicked this particular habit that he’d picked up while he was on his own, but they didn’t really hassle him about it too much. 

Dean hadn’t moved his hands from their 10 and 2 position on the steering wheel for the whole drive between breakfast and lunch except for their very quick stop to fill up the gas tank and use the restroom. That meant he hadn’t reached for the flask in the inside pocket of his jacket and now that it was getting to be late afternoon, he was starting to feel the effects. Maybe Sam and Castiel had been right when they’d both told him, separately, that they thought he was drinking too much and were getting worried, that they wanted him to try and at least cut back. 

They drove for what seemed like forever but it was only a little past eight in the evening when Castiel directed Dean to find a place for them to stop for the night. Pulling into the parking lot of a one-story motel that looked mostly empty, Dean asked, “Is this all right?”

“What did I ask you to do, Dean?” was Castiel’s response. 

Swallowing hard, he repeated the exact request. “You asked me to find a place where we could stop for the night.”

“Can we do that here?”

“I – yeah, it’s-”

“You did as I asked, then. Why would it not be all right?”

Dean wasn’t really sure what to say, so he just nodded quickly and got out to check them into a room with two beds. 

“You’re been very quiet all day, Sam.”

No use in pretending anything, nothing he said was going to get him out of whatever Castiel had in store for him tonight. “I’m nervous. I didn’t want to do something or say something wrong and make my punishment worse”, he answered. 

“Your punishment was already decided this morning. No need to feel obligated to remain silent before I’ve even asked you to do so.”

Sam desperately wanted to ask why he was going to be punished, he always wanted to, but he never did, and neither did Dean. He _had_ asked, once, but was given no answer other than an icy glare and a raised eyebrow, so he never asked again. Castiel always told them when he was ready, whether it was because one or the other of them had angered him or because he just felt like it. 

Dean returned with the key and parked the Impala in front of the door to their room. When Sam got out and headed toward the back of the car to pop the trunk, Castiel stopped him. “It’s not necessary for you to bring anything inside right now. I’ll come back to retrieve our bags when I’m finished with you.” The only thing Castiel brought into the room with them was the small first aid kit from the glove box. 

All right, so they weren’t going to be in any condition to carry their own damn duffels into the room, not that much of a surprise. Castiel rarely left them capable of much more than crying in a corner or curling up into a ball on one of the beds on nights like this. Dean’s hand was shaking so badly that he had trouble turning the key in the lock. Once they were all inside with the door locked behind them, Castiel directed each of them to sit on the end of one of the beds while he pulled out a chair from the round table on the side of the room and sat facing them. Dean and Sam were both looking anywhere but straight ahead – Dean had balled his hands into fists trying to keep their trembling under control and Sam was concentrating very hard on a loose thread at the hem of his t-shirt. It only took Castiel clearing his throat for them both to snap their eyes up to his. 

“Dean, I think I’ll start with you. I understand that you’re nervous, but I don’t believe that’s the reason you’re so shaky tonight. Have you had a drink today?”

Getting out a reply was not easy, but Dean knew better than to hesitate or mumble or do anything else other than honestly answer any questions he was asked. “No, I haven’t.”

“Do you have anything to drink?”

“Yes, my flask, it’s in my pocket, uh, in the inside pocket of my jacket. There’s bourbon in it.”

“But you’ve not drunk from that flask today. Why is that? Your physical state clearly indicates that you’re feeling the effects of a prolonged period without ingesting any alcohol.”

“I wanted to be careful while we were driving. You don’t like it when I drink while we’re on the road, even if-” He stopped himself from finishing that stupid sentence, because he knew that _even if it’s only a little bit_ would be interpreted as either making an excuse or being disrespectful. “Just, you don’t like it, and I already knew you were upset about something if we were being punished, so I didn’t do it.”

Castiel smiled. It wasn’t comforting. “You still want to, though, correct?”

“Yes, I do, I want to right now.”

“Has your brother said anything to you about how much you drink? Shown concern that it’s excessive?”

Dean looked over at Sam, who was looking right back at him and beginning to understand where Castiel was going with this line of questioning. “A few times, yes. You’ve heard him say it. He thinks I drink too much.”

“Sam, would you say that’s accurate?”

With his eyes front and center again, he had no choice. “Yes, I’ve said that before.”

Castiel nodded his approval at Sam’s response, then turned his attention right back where it had been. “What about me, Dean? Do you recall me ever offering an opinion on that subject?”

“You feel the same as Sam. You said the same thing, that I should cut back.”

“Do you think that Sam and I said those things to you because we were trying to control you? Wanted to give you a _hard time_ about something you enjoy?” Castiel’s eyes were challenging then, opened wider, his chin inclined and head tilted just slightly, like he was ready to pounce at whatever response was forthcoming. 

Swallowing hard, Dean closed his eyes and simply said, “No.”

“There must have been some reason for both of us to say the same thing to you in regard to your alcohol consumption, though, right?”

“Yes”, he answered, his eyes still closed, forcing himself not to whisper.

“Enlighten us, then, Dean, and **look at me while I am speaking to you**.” Castiel’s next words came very slowly, a pause between each one. “What do you think the reason might be?”

Nothing left to do but speak the truth while looking right into those cold blue eyes. “Worry. You’re – you’re worried. It’s dangerous in a lot of different ways and the two of you care for me, don’t want to see anything bad happen to me because…because of…that.” Cas was still looking at him expectantly and damn it, Dean knew exactly what he was going to have to say. “Because I drink too much.”

Cas stood up then and moved to the bed, crouched down and kissed him very gently. “Thank you, Dean.” He stood back up and stepped sideways so he was between the two beds. “I’m going to give you both very specific instructions, and you might wonder why I’m telling you to do these things. My expectation is that you will both do exactly as I say, immediately, and speak only when I tell you to. The consequences will be very unpleasant if either of you do otherwise. Now, answer me so I’m sure, please. Do you understand what I have just said?”

The brothers looked at each other, fear in their eyes, seeking comfort from the silent glance before they both answered affirmatively. 

Crouching in front of Sam and kissing him gently just as he had Dean a moment before, Castiel held his hand out and said, “Stand up, Sam.”

Confused but unwilling to challenge Castiel’s orders, Sam got to his feet, Cas still holding onto his hand as he too stood back up. “Give me your belt.” With his fingers fumbling just a little, he immediately unbuckled his belt and pulled it free from its loops, handing it over to Cas. 

“Good. Now, take off your jacket and shirt and turn around so you’re facing Dean.” Sam’s eyes went wide with confusion, and Dean almost had to bite down on his tongue to keep from saying something, anything. Neither of them wanted to make things worse, and there was certainly no way to make them better, so Sam laid his jacket and shirt on the bed and turned to his right. The look in Dean’s eyes almost broke Sam’s heart, but there was nothing for them to do now but ride out everything they had coming to them; they’d be insane to challenge Cas at this point.

Castiel stood behind Sam, first running his hand over the skin of his back gently, then laying a soft kiss to his shoulder blade. “Dean, apologize to your brother.”

Jesus Christ, Cas was gonna whip Sam for what _he_ had done…Dean didn’t have to put any effort into sounding sincere. His voice already shaking, he said, “I’m sorry Sammy, I’m so sorry-”

“Enough”, Cas said, and it took all of Sam’s effort not to answer Dean, say it was all right; he just took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Sam, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to be still.” That wasn’t exactly a question, so Sam didn’t answer, just shook his head because of course not, fuck, he’d be a fool to move while he was being punished. Or, in this case, while he was taking Dean’s punishment. “Do not speak, but feel free to make noise. No one can hear us.”

The words were far from comforting.

Sam flinched at the first couple of blows that fell across his upper back. When one lash crossed over another, he gasped, curling his fists against his sides. The next three strikes landed as precisely as only Castiel could make them, exactly in the same spot between the very bottom of his shoulder blades, and Sam cried out and squeezed his eyes shut. Dean had done his best, but he couldn’t help but look away, just for a second. Nothing escaped Castiel’s notice, though, not ever. Just the sound of his name being spoken forced Dean to turn and face the sight of his brother’s beating. Tears started to slide down Sam’s cheeks as the belt came down over and over, no more than a few seconds between each lash. Sam was crying harder, unable to keep from shouting in pain every time the leather landed again. By the time Cas was finished, Sam’s back was raw, the skin broken and bleeding in a few spots, and Sam was shaking as he tried to catch his breath. 

Castiel just told him to stay put while he walked back over to the other bed and held out his hand to Dean. “Give me your flask.”

Dean handed it right over and Cas walked away. Dean figured he was going to make his point further by pouring out the booze. Once again, he turned and said, “Dean, apologize to your brother.” He managed to keep all but one tear from falling as he repeated himself quietly. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

And then Cas did, in fact, make his point further by pouring out the booze. All over Sam’s abused back. Sam screamed and started sobbing, while Dean literally clamped his hands over his mouth to keep from shouting. Castiel dropped the belt and the empty flask onto the bed next to them as Sam’s head and shoulders slumped forward and his tears fell steadily onto his chest. He wanted to cover his face with his hands but didn’t dare to move. Cas walked in front of him, though, placing his hand under Sam’s chin and raising his face to look at him. He wiped a few tears from Sam’s cheeks, then turned his face toward Dean and spoke again. “I think your brother would like very much for you to make an effort toward decreasing your alcohol intake. Wouldn’t you, Sam?” When Sam only nodded fervently in response, Cas tipped his chin up a little higher. “Tell him.” Cas moved to the side so that Dean could get a clear look at his brother’s tear-stained face. 

“Yes, Dean, I’d like it if you stopped drinking so much.” He had to stop a few times to force the words out between sobs, and Dean wished like hell he could say he’d never touch another drop of alcohol as long as he lived, but he wasn’t sure even this was a strong enough motivator for him to break his habit completely. And damn it, that’s probably exactly what Cas wanted him to realize. That he’d gotten so bad that watching this happen to Sam as a direct result of what he’d done still might not convince him to stop. His tears started to fall then as he responded, “Yeah Sam, of course, yes, I’ll – I’ll stop drinking so much, just like you said. Of course I will.” Fuck, it was near impossible to stop from getting up and putting his arms around Sam, then he realized he wouldn’t be able to hold him without hurting him. 

Dean was left alone then as Cas took Sam into the bathroom. Cas very softly ran a cool cloth over Sam’s back, shushing him and kissing along the side of his arm. “You’ll be all right. I know this is a bad night but you’ve got to calm down before we go back out there. You can do that, I know you can.”

Sam didn’t really have any choice, because he knew just as well as Dean and Castiel did that they weren’t finished. Castiel had specifically said they were both going to be punished, and he seriously doubted that Dean’s punishment was having to watch Sam get a beating and have cheap Kentucky bourbon poured over his wounds. By the time they got back to the main part of the room, Dean was still sitting at the edge of one of the beds and looking terribly afraid. When Cas told Sam to sit next to him at the table, Sam knew that he was going to have to watch Dean suffer at Castiel’s hands as a result of one of his own actions. He wasn’t sure which one, until Castiel reached into his own pocket and produced a pack of Sam’s brand of cigarettes and a lighter. Now it was his turn to answer questions. 

“I noticed you were out of cigarettes and hadn’t purchased any more. I assume this is for the same reason you told me earlier in the car about why you were so quiet all day, you didn’t want to do anything you thought I might disapprove of. Am I correct?”

“Yes”, Sam said, “I – after breakfast I was going to get some but then you said you were going to punish us and I know you and Dean both get impatient when you have to stand around waiting for me to have a cigarette since Dean doesn’t want me to smoke in the car-”

Castiel cut him off there. “So, you think if Dean allowed you to smoke in the car, eliminating the need for us to _wait for you_ , neither of us would have any issue with your nicotine habit?”

Sam stammered a bit. “Well, I – no, probably not, I mean, uh, actually definitely not, I guess.”

“So you brought up the issue of us having to wait for you because Dean doesn’t want you to light one of these in the Impala because…why? It’s an excuse of some kind? I doubt you’re trying to deflect any blame onto Dean right now, after what he’s already been through tonight. That wouldn’t be like you at all, Sam, trying to shake the responsibility of your own poor choices onto someone else.” Castiel’s eyes narrowed at that last bit, words that were clearly only said to illustrate the fact that Sam had, on occasion, blamed others for his mistakes before admitting and accepting that he’d been complicit in all of his own actions.

“ **No** , no, not – that’s not what I meant at all. Of course it’s not anyone else’s fault. Not yours or Dean’s. Neither of you were even here when I started…” And he shut his own self up then, because he didn’t want to sound like he was blaming Dean and Cas for leaving him alone. It’s not like they’d _planned_ to end up in Purgatory. “Sorry, all I meant was that it was me, just me, no one else.”

“You’ve told me before, when I asked about it, that smoking calmed your nerves when you were under a great deal of stress. This makes no sense to me, knowing that the chemicals in these constrict your blood vessels and raise your heart rate. But I assume you’ve told Dean the same thing, since I’m well aware of his negative feelings about this. Didn’t you two have a very loud argument about this exact issue recently?”

Before Sam had a chance to respond, Cas turned away from him and looked straight at Dean, who was now chewing on his bottom lip and bouncing his left leg almost unconsciously. He had no idea what Cas was going to do to him, but if Sam had been punished for Dean’s actions, it only stood to reason that he would be punished for Sam’s. It was all he could do not to break down and cry, beg for Cas to just get it over with already. He couldn’t stand the pervasive fear and uncertainty he felt. 

“Dean, am I correct? Did you fight with Sam a few days ago about his smoking?”

Trying his best to just answer questions and not move or say anything more than he was asked, he simply said, “Yes, we fought about it.”

“What was it, exactly, that got the two of you so angry? What was it that you said to Sam before he shoved you and walked away?”

Mother _fuck_ , he didn’t want to say it again. Should never have said it in the first place, he regretted the words almost before they were all the way out of his mouth. But he was stuck, there was no way around it. “I told him he has a history of getting addicted to things that were bad for him.”

Castiel nodded, considering, as if he didn’t already know exactly what had happened. “So, you took the opportunity to point out his demon blood addiction, and compare it to this addiction. That’s quite understandable. I’m surprised Sam couldn’t grasp how difficult it was for you to see what that did to him, to watch him suffer from withdrawals when he stopped, to see him now abusing another unhealthy substance. Of course, that wasn’t the first time you expressed to Sam that you were concerned about this.”

“No, but it’s not like I’m squeaky clean myself. With how much I’ve been drinking, I felt like it was hypocritical for me to get onto his case about it that much.” Dean almost surprised himself with how open and honest his words were. Damn if Cas didn’t have a knack for pulling the God’s honest truth out of someone – his methods may vary but the results were always the same.

Turning back to Sam, he continued a line of questioning similar to the one he’d had earlier for Dean. “I’m sure you recall Dean saying those things to you?”

“Yeah, um, yes. I remember.”

“And you remember me voicing the same concerns but for different reasons?”

“Yes, I do”, Sam replied, fighting the urge to look away from the frozen glare Castiel was focusing on him. 

“Then I expect you can share what my concerns were when we spoke.”

He didn’t have any way to defend himself, and it wouldn’t have done any good to try anyway. Everything Dean and Cas had said to him about smoking was true. “You said you worried about my health, and that I’d be a liability on hunts if the cigarettes affected my cardiovascular system.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s exactly what I said?”

It took Sam a minute, but he got it, and it tumbled out of his lips because he was so fucking relieved to have figured out what Cas was talking about. “You said _when_ it starts affecting my system – messing with my breathing and slowing me down – you didn’t say ‘ _if_ ’. 

“Do you disagree with my assessment? Are you under the impression that greater susceptibility to illness, a weaker heart and unhealthy lungs are not an issue? That those things couldn’t have caused you, or me, or Dean to be killed on a hunt?”

“No”, Sam replied, “no, I don’t disagree. Me being in poor health could put us all in danger when we’re hunting.” He looked down at the table then, swallowed in self-loathing and unable to look at Dean or Cas after that admission. 

He didn’t have to look up, he heard Castiel open the package of cigarettes, pull one out and light it. He handed it to Sam and said, “Go ahead.” And come on, really? Was he seriously going to play that whole ‘I’m gonna make you smoke the whole pack until you’re sick’ thing on Dean? That wouldn’t do much good, since they were cooped up in a tiny room and everyone would have to breathe in the smoke. When he did finally look up, he took the lit cigarette from Cas and watched in horror as Castiel lit one for himself. What the hell?

Dean was still sitting down where he’d been since they walked into the room. It was surreal, watching Castiel inhale easily and blow the smoke out from his mouth and nose like he was used to it. Even though in his brain, he knew that the future Zachariah had shown him would never come about, it still made him uncomfortable to see Cas using a substance that was addictive and unhealthy. He didn’t think he’d ever forget about that other, human version of their angel, no matter how many years went by.

Sam was about halfway done with his, having flicked his ashes into the glass ashtray on the table several times, Cas doing the same, when Cas told him to give the half-smoked cigarette to him. Damn it, he’d gone without all day and now it was being taken away from him. All right, so his first guess was wrong. While the wheels slowly starting in his head, he saw Castiel get up and walk over to Dean with two lit, half-finished cigarettes with all the ashes shaken off the end. 

Fuck. **No** , no no no, he wouldn’t, no way, he couldn’t – well no, there wasn’t anything really that he _couldn’t_ do. But this…Sam didn’t think he could take this, stay quiet like Dean had before. But he knew for sure that if he said or did anything, Castiel would find more ways to hurt Dean, so he very reluctantly stayed where he was, his fingernails digging trails against the inside of his hands because he thought it would ground him. Or possibly because he felt like he deserved more pain if he was right about what Cas was about to do to Dean. 

For his part, Dean’s eyes were wide and darting around. He was trembling all over and his face was flushed red, the beginning of more tears making their way to the surface because he fucking _knew_ what was coming. 

“Dean, hold out your arms, palms up.” Yeah, he was right. Score one for Dean. He would have done almost anything to be wrong this time. He did as he was told, though, unable to keep his arms from shaking along with the rest of him. And then it was time for the line to repeated, just in the opposite direction. 

“Apologize to your brother, Sam.”

He was openly crying again, tears and snot all over his face that he didn’t dare to wipe off with one of the tissues that were in the box right there next to him. When he was able to get enough breath to speak, he almost yelled out, “Dean, I’m so sorry, oh God, I’m sorry, I am, I swear…” Then he realized he was babbling and not just doing what Cas told him to, so he shut up. 

Dean took in a sharp breath and hissed loudly at the burn of the cigarette in Castiel’s right hand was ground out on the thin, sensitive skin of his left wrist. On instinct, he pulled the abused extremity close to his chest, but then got ahold of himself enough to return to his earlier position sitting on the end of the bed with his arms up and out, now with tear tracks of his own all along his face. 

The second burn was in the exact same place on his right wrist and this time Dean couldn’t hold back, screaming even after the few seconds that Cas had held the cigarette to his skin. 

Turning back to the table, he placed the two cigarettes into the ashtray. Dean and Sam had just enough space to be able to share eye contact, to try and get through to each other with silent misery and apologies. 

Castiel looked at Dean and said, “You can lower your arms now. I should punish you for moving your hand earlier but I suspect that both of you have, as a result of these punishments, truly ‘learned your lesson’, as they say. You can share a bed tonight if you’d like, but if I see or hear even a good-night kiss out of either one of you, you’ll be spending the night in the corner, sleeping on your feet like a couple of horses. Now go on, get ready for bed and tend to each other’s wounds.”

Once they were in the bathroom, Dean spun Sam around right away so he could inspect the welts and baby bruises that were gonna turn into big ugly purple bruises by morning. Whispering, Dean said, “I meant it, Sammy, I am so fucking sorry.” The only thing he wanted to do right now was get his hands onto Sam’s face, which was puffy and red from all the crying, and to kiss him stupid.

Holding Dean’s hands in his own, Sam saw the heartbreaking close-up view of those two marks on his wrists. Dean’s punishment had been much quicker but fuck, those burn marks were ugly. “I am too, you know that, but if he hears us talking…” Neither one of them wanted to know what the end of that sentence would be. They just dabbed antibiotic ointment on each other’s skin and brushed their teeth. They had no clothes to change into, and when they opened the door, they saw Cas coming in to toss their bags onto the beds, Dean’s and Sam’s on one bed, his own on the other. There was no sex on punishment nights, and certainly no gentle aftercare. 

“You can get changed out here, don’t try to run off to the bathroom and pretend you’re modest about nudity”, Castiel was barely finished the sentence before Dean and Sam were both tugging off their shoes and the clothing they had on to swap them for soft sleep pants and worn thin t-shirts. 

With their legs intertwined under the blanket, the brothers felt the desire to sleep almost immediately. Sometimes it was hard for Dean to fall asleep when Cas was watching him from across the room, but not tonight. And it looked to them like Cas might need some rest himself, as he was getting under the covers and leaning back against the headboard so he could finish the book he was reading. 

“I’m not going to give you specific instructions, because I am certain that you’ll both cut down on your use of harmful substances. If it turns out that you don’t cut down and I am forced to give you instructions, you will look back on the punishment you received tonight with nostalgia. I won’t demand that either of you stop immediately, or forever. I’m only asking that you don’t use these substances nearly as often as you do now. That shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Sam was pushing himself up on his elbow and staring at Cas, very quietly asking if he could please speak. “Yes, your punishment is concluded, you may speak if you wish.” 

At first, it was just whispers, and they were predictable. _I’m sorry_ and _not your fault_ and most frequently, _Love you. Love you too. So much. You’re gonna be fine_. Suddenly, Sam looked over and asked Castiel “Were we good?” He craved praise like nothing else in this world, except for maybe his awesome sex life with his brother and their angel. But he should have known better – no matter how many times he’d gone looking for it, praise was something he’d never get after a punishment.

Stoically, without lifting his eyes from his book, Castiel said, “Of course. You’re too afraid of me to be anything but good when you’re being punished. It’s time for you to at least try to get some sleep, both of you. I know how much pain you’re in and that might make it hard to fall asleep but I want these lessons to settle in so you don’t forget; I’ll heal you in the morning. If you can’t sleep, just lie there quietly. No complaining about being too sore to get comfortable, that’s your own fault. For now, you’ll be silent again. I don’t care to be disturbed by either of you.”

Sleep claimed them quickly, and the last thing Dean saw before he closed his eyes for the night was Castiel’s completely relaxed posture, leaning back and reading his book. Tomorrow night, they’d probably be fucking like bunnies. Cas could shake off something like this with no further thought. 

And all right, the not so pretty parts of this relationship were very fucking dangerous (or they would be, if Cas ever lost his temper), Dean thought, but the good parts, which made up the majority of their time together, were so wonderful that none of them even considered ending things, even on this kind of night.

Because they fit. All three of them, together, more perfectly than anything had ever fit before for any of them


End file.
